May, 1987
Lindsay rested her head on Roger's shoulder and closed her eyes. A year ago she would have been thrilled to be here at the senior prom, dancing with one of the most popular guys in school. She would have convinced herself that she was in some fairytale romance and the fact that his arms were wrapped so tightly around her would have made her go crazy. But instead she felt nothing.
The whole night had been like this. She'd been on autopilot, trying her best to seem fun and sexy like she always had in situations like this, but it had never felt like so much work. As soon as she'd started talking to Michael she'd completely forgotten about her date. After he left she realized Roger seemed annoyed and slightly creeped out that she seemed to be more interested in her brother than him. She'd been extra flirtatious to try to make up for it, but as the night wore on she found herself caring less and less what he thought of her.
She scanned the crowd for Michael. She saw him across the room dancing with Lisa. He looked like he was enjoying himself even less than she was. She wished she could be there with him, her arms draped around his neck, his hands on her waist, him looking at her like she was the most beautiful girl in the room. Suddenly it struck her how ridiculous this was. Here they were, struggling to impress people who didn't know them, didn't care about them, when the person who loved them more than anyone was right there across the room. She didn't care anymore, she knew she wanted to be with him.
It didn't even feel wrong anymore. She'd been trying to convince herself that she still knew it was messed up, but the truth was that some part of her had always felt like they would be together someday. She knew he felt the same way, that there was something inevitable about them. He may not have accepted it yet, but someday he might, and if he did she knew how she would respond. She had to be with him, she could never be happy with anyone else.
